Amy King
Homage to The Ballad

She was soft and sentence.
My own sleeping speech awoke her.
There used to be plush velvet items where
now appears lifelike finger explosives.
I sip from tin coffee cups
the flavor of her past mouth.

I take comfort in and make love to
Tomaz Salamunís mother beyond
the graveyard gates.  I hope Tomaz
does not follow nor regret
her exposure in ghostly patterns
upon my flesh.  We share this space
and perhaps Tomaz would sigh.

I am in love for the next time in my life.

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